Month: December 2017

God has done real-life miracles in my life. If you are a regular reader of this blog, you know, I have seen God’s power with my own eyes and could tell story-upon-story of all the miracles I have seen God do for me and my family. (So many of them I’ve shared on this blog.)

But today I want to share with you why I believe we’ve been able to experience God moving in such incredible, awe-inspiring ways… It’s a topic I’ve never talked about on this blog, but here it is: We are lavishly, uncomfortably, generous with our money.

(It’s not who we’ve always been, but it’s who we’ve become — And it’s changed everything.)

Warning: this post won’t be for everyone. Some people are so protective, so combative about their money, they can’t even have a conversation, much less read a blog post with an open mind. So if that’s the category you fall under, no offense… I’m sure you are wonderful, but to clarify this blog post is NOT for you. I’m also equally sorry, because your refusal to be generous is also your stamp of approval to live a life with a cap on all the miraculous things you will see God do… (or won’t do, for that matter.)

Because I don’t say this lightly or flippantly: Generosity can change your life! (As a fact, it has changed mine!)

Generosity has unlocked God’s blessing in our lives. It’s let loose a favor that is untamed and a story that is unrivaled. And hear me say this, God desires to do the same in your life in 2018.

The question I will pose to you today is: Have you given God enough space to move?

He was wearing a snow suit on an 84 degree summer day, that was the first sign he wasn’t mentally sound. The second, was the eerily slow pace in which he walked.

Come on, pee faster… my inner dialogue begged of my 65 lb boxer. Watching, out of the corner of my eye as the strange man crossed closer to my side of the street. Taking note also, of how nearly every inch of his body was covered in layers upon layers of clothing.

I hurried into the safety of my apartment building, stopping briefly at the entrance to say my usual hello’s with Carlos the doorman. Asking, as I always do, if anything noteworthy happened for the day ( P.s. NYC doorman have the best stories, and Carlos’ exuberance to tell them and to exaggerate every detail and make subtle jabs at Trump, make them all the more fun to listen to.)

But that’s when I heard it… a booming voice behind me. I knew instantly it was the man I had been watching. He was yelling in my direction.

I never did make out the words he was barking, but it was clear he was angry. More than that, he was unstable.

Looking back, there was so much to be afraid of in that moment, so many reasons to cower down and recoil in fear. Yet interestingly, at the moment, the maniac wasn’t the one I was taking note of the most… it was Carlos the doorman.

Growing up as a pastor’s kid in a conservative Baptist church, I heard (a lot) of words over the course of my life. Lots of good, well-behaved, and in their ‘Sunday’s best’ kinds of words. But the first time I was on the receiving end of vulnerable and honest words? It stunned me.

The first time I heard someone bare their soul and share their raw, most painfully human truths, let me tell you… it was almost a spiritual experience.